Escapology is dangerous but not nearly as dangerous as real life
by 0anonymouslymine
Summary: Nick Baxey is a schoolboy by day, and a famous escapologist by night. His father is missing presumed dead but Nick is certain everybody is wrong. Desperate to find him alive, he seeks help from his friends and family. But they are scattered across the world – and then they start disappearing one by one. Escapology is dangerous but not nearly as dangerous as real life...


Nick Baxey was back in his element, doing what he enjoyed the most. He was up on stage, a spotlight illuminating his face, a crowd of spectators watching intently to see what astonishing trick he would be performing today.

Only today there was one important difference. He wasn't there, in the theatre, as he usually was for his shows. This was the big one he was outside in London's Hyde Park. The audience was in open air too sitting on camp chairs or picnic rugs or sprawled out on the dry grass immediately in front of the stage, the adults drinking beer and wine, the kids eating hot dogs or licking ice cream brought from one of the bustling food stalls.

It was dark- a clear warm night, the sky speckled with stars. Behind the stage, everyone was setting up, all his family were here apart from him, the one he cared for the most and looked up too, the one that had taught him everything he knew today. Nick gazed out at the audience, trying to estimate how many people were here to see him. One or two thousand certainly maybe more. He felt the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He had never ever performed in front of this many people before.

The voiceover suddenly erupted through the speakers reminding everyone that this was a charity show to raise money for children with leukaemia and that all the artists taking part are doing it for free. They'd already been a girl band on stage, then two dance groups, a stand-up comedian and a twelve year old singer who shot to fame on a talent show. Now it was Nick's turn. He was the final act- the finale of the whole evening's entertainment.

The presenter- a Radio 1 DJ called James Sinclair was at the microphone. "He is well known to the audience at London's Bareeh Club" he was saying "If you haven't seen him before, believe me you're in for a treat. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome seventeen year-old escapologist Nick Baxey!"

A huge cheer erupted across the park as Nick stepped over to the microphone. His mouth was dry, his head pounding. He licked his lips, trying to steady his nerves.

"Thank you James" he said, and was suprisdes of how calm he sounded over the loudspeakes.

"It's great to be here, and to be able to support such a worth while cause"

He could see the eager faces stretching out away from the stage:couples, families, parents with children, teenagers - many of them around his age. Every pair of eyes was fixed on him, a tall, brown-haired boy who was already establishing as one of Britains' most exciting performers. It is going to be spectacular.

"As always" Nick went on "I can not do this alone. I need the help of my brilliant Greek assistant Ambrose."

He waved his arm , and from the wings of the stage came a slim dark haired young women wearing tight gold trousers and a crimson top, her thick jet black hair curled over her shoulders. She was pushing a large metal platform bearing a woodern trunk big enough for a man - or in Nick's case a boy. Another cheer erupted from the crowd, accompanied by a handful of wolf-whistles from a group of young men. Ambrose smiles sweetly, unhazed by all the attention and came to a halt beside Nick.

"A few months ago" Nick said into the mircophone. "The London police asked me to check out some new handcuffs for them, to see whether they're completely escape-proof, well tonight, live infront of everyone I will put this too the test" He looked towards the side of the stage. "Would my guest please now reveal themselves"

From the shadows in the curtained- off sings a tall heavy built man emerged. He was in his mid fourties, had a bald head with a typical tooth brush mustache. The crowd applauded polietly, noone wolf-whistled this time.

Nick shook hands with the anonymous man, then said "Will you please tell the audience who you are"

"I am Detective Chief John Richardson, of Scotland Yard" the man said "I have been a polive officer for thirty-five yearss, the last twelve as the head of the criminal investigation department of the London Metropoliton Police"

"So you've seen a few villians in your time then?" Nick said.

"More than a few"

"So what do you have today to show us?" Chief Richardson reached into the pocket of his tweed trousers and oulled out a gleaming pair of new handcuffs.

"Would you tell the audience what you are holding?"

"These are a pair of titanium steel handcuffs mafe by a company who claim they are the toughest and strongest handcuffs ever manufactured, they say that no one could every escape from them" his mouth twitched slightly underneath his moustache "not even you"


End file.
